


Unprofessional Conduct

by mediocre_kazoo_player



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, M/M, Major Spoilers, Not sure what this is but it's definitely not straight, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocre_kazoo_player/pseuds/mediocre_kazoo_player
Summary: (Major spoilers for chapter 6.)Pick them up like plastic dolls and bang them together at the hips.In other words, Kokichi Ouma looks very nice in a dress.





	1. Chapter 1

Tsumugi Shirogane was a superfan. An  _ultra_ -fan. An ultra ultra ultra ultra fan. She had to give herself at least some credit for the sheer dedication that had nurtured her career thus far. Once an unassuming, greasy little tween who'd gotten her grubby hands on an early season of Danganronpa, she'd blossomed into a driven young lady who had risen to the challenge of masterminding the 53rd season of her favorite killing game. There were many out there, she reasoned, that could only dream of being in her position. Right now she was living and breathing fiction.

She vividly remembered refreshing her inbox with barely-contained excitement the day the character documents were to be released. Yes, she also remembered the slim white bar that had appeared at the top of her page informing her that she had a new message, clicking on it blindly with a shaking finger, and learning that it was just a reminder for her to sign an itty bitty legal form they'd had to sneak in for this season. FUCK. When the release happened for real, though, she reckoned she probably spent the night rereading each sheet at least five times. This cast did not disappoint.

One out of the sixteen in particular was  _incredibly_  not disappointing. The profile Team Danganronpa had written for him was a good deal longer than some of the others'—a possible indicator that there had been more thought put into him. Simply skimming it over, Tsumugi had a strong premonition that he was going to be a fan favorite.

At the very least, no one would be forgetting that obnoxious checkered scarf.

 _Bang bang bang bang bang._  "Shirogane-chaaaaaan!"

Ah, speak of the devil. Tsumugi snapped out of her reverie, straightened out her blouse, and swung the door open with a great big smack.

Smack?

Kokichi stumbled into her frame of vision from the right, one hand strewn carelessly over his nose and forehead. "First you keep me waiting, and then you attack me with your door? Gosh, I'm feeling so unwelcome that I might just head back where I came from and not bother with you at all," he huffed.

Oh hell no. Tsumugi had planned this for hours upon hours upon hours. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to interact personally with one of her favorite characters and she had set it all up so  _perfectly_. In a situation she hadn't planned so meticulously and couldn't completely account for, well...let's just say that she didn't want to end up ridiculed like season 50's mastermind. Caught on tape and broadcasted to the world being hilariously rejected by his favorite girl. Ugh, ugh. She stretched a taut grin over her face. "Oh, I'm sorry. These things open a bit faster than I thought."

Kokichi clicked his tongue. "You're on thin ice, Shirogane-chan. If you did that outside of this charming little prison, I'd have my lackeys take care of you immediately."

 _No you wouldn't_. Her forced smile became serene. As he sauntered past her and into the lab, she caught a whiff of something not altogether sweet but still quite pleasant. Clean linens? The door closed behind her with a click and she noticed that the spikes in his hair drooped slightly; the tips looked softer, too. Must've washed his hair. Cute.

"So," he articulated, twirling around to face her. The sweet, clean scent hit her even harder. "What kind of perverted thing are you going to make me wear, hmm?"

She laughed her plain laugh, idly wishing that it wasn't so plain, that she could be interesting enough to catch his attention. "It's actually quite modest. You see, I've made myself into a boy plenty of times, and I wanted to try my hand at transforming a boy into a girl." Checking his nails. Not a good sign. Maybe a quip would make her seem less boring? "So I'm starting out with someone who's already pretty close!" She braced herself for a flood of crocodile tears.

"Huuuuh?" Or not. He was unpredictable, after all. "Shirogane-chan thinks I'm cute?" he asked, batting his eyelashes.

Tsumugi felt her heartbeat pick up in spite of herself.

"Well, it can't be helped." Kokichi smiled good-naturedly, clasping his hands behind his head. "You just need to pay me 50 thousand yen!"

Crap. Interesting, be interesting. Who's someone interesting? Ah, yeah, Kokichi's a rival-type. Choose a rival. Shit. Byakuya Togami. What would he say? "Pah. I have no qualms paying up, but don't you think  _you_  should be paying _me_  for making use of my faculties? I think it's nice of me to give you a free trial." Apparently that.

Tsumugi cracked an eye open—it seemed that she'd subconsciously turned up her nose and closed her eyes while playing her part—and saw Kokichi's round eyes boring into her with a blank stare. Upon catching her gaze, he let the corners of his lips quirk up again. "Don't worry, that was a lie," he sang.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as he skipped over to the bar area and plopped down on one of the stools. "Just a moment," she told him.

She'd already set up the tools she needed earlier. Collecting those, she took a look at the outfit she'd prepared for him, cringed, and decided it could wait. It was kind of embarrassing how much thought she'd put into it. She walked over to him briskly and set the stack down on the counter, noting the way his eyes lingered on the pile. Probably checking for a murder weapon. She doubted she could kill him with a curling iron even if she wanted to.

"We're going to do your makeup first," she announced, popping an elastic band over his head and pushing his hair back. He blinked up at her. Not a bad look, honestly.

Okay, okay, focus. Primer first. Tsumugi rubbed her hands together, spreading the product all over her palms. With only a slight amount of hesitation, she lifted them and started to apply it to Kokichi's skin. He made a face at her as his cheeks were smooshed.  _Way too cute for his own good_. (She was sure he was well aware of that and used it to every advantage he could.)

"Hey, Shirogane-chan."

"Hmm?"

"If you're going to murder me after this then at least my corpse'll look real good, right?"

"Don't tempt me."

He let out a tiny giggle as she patted his face with a sponge, applying foundation. She should have taken the impish grin as a forewarning. Faster than Tsumugi could react, he turned his head and bit down on the sponge like an overexcitable dog. "Hey!"

"Pththbhtht. This stuff tastes awful. Is this how you're going to kill me?" Kokichi's nose was wrinkled and he was working his tongue around, trying to get rid of the taste.

Tsumugi sighed. "You did that yourself." She put the sponge down and started to wipe the foundation off his lips with her thumb. They felt...soft. Solid. There was a ragged edge where he probably bit sometimes, then a hint of wetness wherever she pushed in too far. Whether it was real or not, she did not allow herself to believe the faint suggestion of pink appearing behind the layer of pale makeup she'd put on him.

Resisting the urge to smear his own saliva back onto his face, Tsumugi picked up a different sponge and began to dab under his eyes. There. She leaned back, examining him. Although his skin was pale to begin with, the shadows under his eyes were not. Without the addition of their bruised bluish-purple hue, he looked more...friendly? That wasn't the word for it, no. There probably wasn't a word for it.

Next, pencil liner. Sure, Kokichi had been surprisingly cooperative so far, but he seemed like the type to squirm a great deal when things poked at his eyelids. Liquid liner would be a messy affair. God forbid he try to bite that, too...

"Now close your eyes and hold still for me," she instructed.

He grinned up at her, both eyes wide open, and started to wiggle obnoxiously in his seat. Right, trust issues. "One eye?" she bargained. He conceded with an exaggerated sigh.

His one available pupil traced the path of the applicator until it vanished behind the bridge of his nose. "Ahhhhhhh! It hurts, it hurts! Help! Shirogane-chan is poking my eye out!"

Tsumugi paused her work to give him an unimpressed glower. (Hopefully the fact she wasn't panicking at him calling out for help made her seem more trustworthy.) He merely smirked up at her, his one partially-done eye narrowed cheekily. Unruffled, she leaned in again, steadying her free hand against his jaw so that her middle finger rested comfortably underneath his earlobe. He felt warmer there than his ghostlike complexion would suggest.

 _Work from the outer corner to the inner corner, barely tapering the bold black line._  She had practiced this on herself and on several mannequins since the show began.  _Then add the tiniest hint of a kitten wing on the end. Remember to concentrate on the upper lid_ , she reminded herself—she was going for cute, not mysterious. Kokichi himself already supplied more than enough of the latter.

Once she finished the other eye, she pulled out an eyelash curler, not even attempting to disguise her amusement at how he looked at the device as if it were a medieval torture instrument. Kokichi's eyelashes pointed downwards naturally, which was a bit of a shame, since they were nice and long. Not that she'd paid enough attention to him to notice that they only showed when he pretended to fall asleep during a boring conversation, anyway. "You can keep your eyes open this time," she said.

"Ugh," he groaned.

After a good deal of wrangling and biting back laughter at what she'd thereafter remember as his "dead cat face" (uneven eyelids with a bit of the underside showing on whichever one she was curling the lashes on and the most deliberate grimace plastered all over his countenance), she applied a layer of mascara with ease.

"Are you done yet? My eyelashes are gonna fall off and it's all gonna be your fault. Those cost a lot to put in, you know? I'll sue you for damages," Kokichi said, jabbing a finger in her direction.

She tilted her head and pressed a palm to her chin, faking concern. "Isn't that Kiibo's line?"

"Nishishi. I'm lying. These are all natural, baby." He winked at her for emphasis. "I'm still suing you though!" Seemingly delighted by his own tomfoolery, he let out another mischievous chuckle. "Oops, I told another lie. I'm really hopeless, aren't I?"

 _Yeah, yeah, you're a lost cause._  She didn't say it out loud for fear that somehow she would sound  _too_  fond of him. Instead, she took out an eyeshadow palette. "I have some finishing touches to make first."

"Fine," he replied airily, casting his nails a sideways glance. "A supreme leader like me doesn't have all day to play dress-up, though."

She only laughed, sitting down on another bar stool to face him. For a moment she wondered how it would feel to have him on her lap as she did this, fingers tangled in her hair, his light frame pressed intimately against her. No. Bad Tsumugi. Focus on the palette, the brush. She began to tap the brush in a shimmery hue labeled "periwinkle". "Periwinkle" sounded cute. "Kokichi" sounded cute. Focus. Focus!

The subtle glimmer of the eyeshadow, swiped carefully underneath both of his eyes, complemented his irises. Ooh, fuck. Repurpose this glittery eyeliner as mascara, and...

She'd successfully created a look reminiscent of the dewy shine on his wet lashes after he'd let loose a bout of fake tears. She was in too deep.

With a large, fluffy brush, she picked up some powdered blush and dusted it across his cheekbones. Done. Kokichi let out a tiny sneeze.  _Fuck, fuuuuuuuck._

"Well?" he asked, sounding somewhat woozy from the sneeze.

"Hair," she said, apologetically. He threw up his hands, rolling his eyes. Though...if he really found this too boring, he would have already left, right? Yes, he was being oddly patient, watching her curiously and ducking his head gently as she removed the hairband and separated the bigger knots in his hair with her fingers. Did it feel nice?

Styling his hair went by faster than the makeup did, perhaps spurred on subconsciously by her anticipation of a certain visitor who should soon be returning a jacket she'd left in his lab on purpose. The warm hiss of the iron and Kokichi's complacent, satisfied humming made Tsumugi wish she could drag on and on and on.

Finally, she set the iron down and fluffed his bouncy ringlets a few times before expertly tying some of it in the back with a white bow. After a bit of thought, she snuck some bobby pins in there. He'd need them later. She hoped he'd felt a twinge of gratitude while she slid them into place.

"O-kayyy." She startled as he rose from his seat. Wait, not yet, we're not— "Let's see what you wanted me to wear." Oh. Of course. He'd seen her cringe at the lone outfit hidden back there, hadn't he.

"Y-you can change behind that curtain over there!" she called out. She looked away, cheeks flushing, when she saw his eyebrows arch at the outfit.

"Actually, since Shirogane-chan is soooo obsessed with me, I think I'll change right in front of her!" Tsumugi imploded. This was...probably because she'd been too specific about where he could change, and he must've suspected she was planning an ambush there...yeah, that must've been it. She couldn't say she wasn't pleased with the results, though.

Kokichi strolled over to the bar booth, a clothes hanger dangling off of his index finger. He let it flop over one of the couches and undid his checkered scarf. It landed on another couch. While unbuttoning his shirt, he shot Tsumugi a sly smile, which, combined with the makeup layered over his face, looked downright seductive. She swallowed, trying not to salivate.

Midway through shrugging it off of his body, he stopped, the garment draped between the crooks of his elbows. "Aaah, don't like at me like that, Shirogane-chan. It's scary. You look like you could eat me whole." Kokichi pouted, jutting his hips out to one side suggestively. "I'm so defenseless it'd just be wrong if you took advantage of me right now, you know?"

Oh god. Be someone else. Be anyone else right now. "Keh. As if anyone would want to touch your filthy body."

He'd shucked off his straitjacket-like shirt and was standing topless in front of her. "Hmm? I don't think I said anything about touching my body." The innocent expression he was wearing morphed into a teasing one as he repositioned his pointer finger from tapping on his cheek to in front of his mouth. "So you  _are_  having dirty thoughts about me."

Fuck shit fuck. "Oh, shut up and change already. The more you speak the less I'm willing to put up with you." Somewhere down the line her Byakuya impression had washed away, replaced by a desperate attempt to recreate the way she herself spoke when she was fed up with Miu's lewd antics.

Kokichi responded appropriately with what could not have been anything but a gaudy caricature of Miu. With some of his own flavor, of course. "Wh-what? You don't have to be so harsh about it. Y-you're so m-mean..." He shrunk in on himself, putting his hands up defensively. Thankfully he had the decency to hold the stage tears back this time and the makeup remained intact. As per usual, the vulnerable expression dissolved in an instant. "Whatever."

Tsumugi pretended not to stare as he donned the short white dress so caringly modeled off of his own outfit, multicolored buttons and all. She allowed herself a few more peeks as he fastened the little black poncho, a dead ringer for the cape he'd ditched in his room after a while, about his shoulders.

And then she looked away so quickly she swore she might've snapped her neck and derailed the entire show with it. "This thing is so skimpy my underwear comes out at the bottom! Geesh, did you even think abou..." Kokichi trailed off, inevitably noticing the offending item. "Ohh."

Panties.

With loud red and yellow stripes all over them.

(And a little bow on the front.)

"Wow, Shirogane-chan, you are really fucking creepy." Tsumugi wasn't sure if she was relieved or distressed by the fact that there was only amusement and no disgust in his voice. She didn't lift her head when she heard his boxers hit the leather couch with a light slap, and she didn't dare look when she heard what was most likely Kokichi pulling the panties up and coyly snapping the elastic band against his hips. "How'd you know what color they were, anyway? I wonder if you've already seen me naked, and that's why you're not looking now."

Her voice was even reedier than usual when she croaked out a response. "Everyone was at the pool and you left your clothes in a pile."

"Nishishi, so you're not as much of a freaky pervert as I suspected. Good to know." More shuffling. The tapping of heels—probably the boots. Some clicking sounds, which were most likely the cuffs being buttoned into place. Was it okay to look now? "Ooh, these are kinky." No it wasn't.

And then a long silence. Tsumugi allowed herself a crack in the hair curtain that was blocking her view. Kokichi seemed to be struggling with the thigh highs, pulling them up and watching them wilt at the top. Right, the straps. She had to...oh, damn it, he probably knew he had to tighten the straps for them to stay in place. He confirmed her hunch by shooting her a look that certainly didn't say "I don't know how to tighten these straps".

Suddenly feeling like she had a mouthful of dessicant, she rose from her position. "Let me help you with those." Kokichi stopped fumbling with them immediately and leaned back against a couch, beaming innocently at her. She knew he was everything but. Case in point: as she approached, he spread his legs for her, challenging her to touch him.  _Go on. I dare you._  And she dared.

She managed to secure the first strap without incident, though she could feel him staring at her all the while. The moment the second strap was snugly fastened, he let out a lascivious moan. "Shirogane-chan, it's too tight...!"

 _You little shit._ "Get used to it," she spat, giving the inside of his thigh a disciplinary smack. She deeply regretted not setting up a tape recorder of some sort to capture the way his breath hitched. His eyes followed her as she stood up.

"I didn't know the wallpaper could talk," he finally managed. His voice had gone all husky. Was this Kokichi's dubious way of flirting with people? Whether it was or wasn't, Tsumugi still felt a rush of pride at the idea that she might have impressed him. So far this plan had been a smashing success.

She took this moment to admire him, to admire how she had covered and claimed his body with her handiwork. His hair fell neatly about his youthful face in soft curls, the perfect picture frame for those wide, shimmering eyes. It made her wonder what life would be like if Kokichi was a girl. If he—she, rather—inhabited Tsumugi's side of the dorms. If Tsumugi could invite her over for the night, the two of them in loose pajamas, painting each others' nails, smelling like strawberry and hydrangeas, and let Kokichi entertain her with lie after lie until dawn broke...If the two of them led each other astray, and she let Kokichi drape her trembling, petite figure over her, elation coursing through both their bodies as their lips brushed—

Oh, his lips. Shit. Their guest would be arriving any moment now and Tsumugi had forgotten the part she was the most proud of. "Well, that's that. Let me get you something for your trouble, okay?" She lingered for a moment, like magnets do at first when you attempt to pry them apart. Then she disappeared behind the bar counter.

"About time. I need a drink after getting violated by Shirogane-chan." This was followed by a little grunt. It sounded like he was stretching.

"Sorry, pipsqueak, no alcohol today." She emerged with a cherry-flavored lollipop, offering it to him. He looked at her disdainfully.

"I'm not a child."  _That shit's poisoned. Prove me wrong._

"Okay, look." She hefted the entire jar onto the counter, grabbed one at random, and popped it in her mouth, all while giving him a challenging glare.

Kokichi scoffed. He shoved a hand into the jar, selected a lollipop near where she'd taken hers, plucked the wrapper off, and pushed the candy to the back of his mouth. Tsumugi frowned.

"Eat it like this," she scolded him, demonstrating. The colored candy rested on her lips.

He was smart. He understood. "Fiiiiiine." But it wouldn't be Kokichi if he didn't start kissing at the sucker in an overtly lewd manner. This boy was going to be the death of her.

In due time, the intended effect was achieved: the candy had stained his pale lips with a purplish-pink gradient. It looked gorgeous on him. He looked gorgeous.

It was at this time that Shuichi Saihara poked his head through the open door, Tsumugi's "lost" jacket draped over his arm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, there's some angst this time. It doesn't get too bad, though. Thank you for your kind comments :)

The conversation Shuichi had held with Tsumugi over this jacket still stood out starkly in his mind: "This one is my absolute favorite! I spent such a long time working on it I'd be absolutely devastated if something happened to it. The left arm was torn badly and I'm missing some of the materials it was made with, so I'm taking it down to the warehouse..."

Ironically, she'd left it in his lab after being rushed away to attend to something. Fortunately for her, earlier in the conversation she had offered to show him and another person something in _her_ lab at such-and-such a time, which he'd refused somewhat reluctantly for a reason he couldn't remember. That bothered him. But the important thing here was that he knew when she would be present and could return her treasured work to her safely.

Walking at a brisk pace, he reached his destination within minutes. From his vantage point in the hallway, Tsumugi looked like she was in the middle of talking to someone. That was fine. He'd quickly hand her the jacket and be on his way.

All he had to do was step through the doorway like this, and—

Who was that?

An unfamiliar girl was perched on one of Tsumugi's bar stools, gazing honey-sweet into her eyes. One leg was crossed over the other, bouncing gently as her boot-clad heel tapped a steady rhythm against the chair. A lollipop dangled from her pretty lips. Shuichi knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn't help himself. Everything about her was sucking him in at once. He tried to convince himself that his logical mind had taken over, and that he was trying to examine her in order to explain how another student had made it into the facility so late, but there was no denying that she was simply overwhelmingly pleasant to look at. But also that...she looked oddly familiar.

Tsumugi was the first to notice him. She waved him over, laughing and telling him to deposit the jacket on the bar counter.

The mysterious girl pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with a wet _pop_ and turned to face him, her dark curls bouncing about her shoulders. Shuichi barely had time to register the honey in her expression exchanging itself for aspartame before:

"Oh, did my beloved Saihara-chan decide to pay me a visit?"

**What.**

If Shuichi's brain right now was an intricate network of exercising hamsters, every one of them would be hurtling in circles as their wheels spun too fast for their feet. His body was on autopilot. It continued to walk jerkily towards the counter for a few seconds but stopped once it forgot its purpose, so he stood there with his mouth ajar and his hands awkwardly clutching Tsumugi's jacket.

His voicebox, also on autopilot, settled upon the only coherent thought it could fish from his mental chowder. "O...Ouma-kun?"

He turned when he heard Tsumugi's barely-contained snickers overflow, dragging her over the counter where she collapsed in a fit of giggles. Kokichi followed shortly after, leaning so close to her for support that he yanked on her hair and made both of them laugh even harder.

It took about a minute for the three of them to recover, Tsumugi and Kokichi from their laughing fit, and Shuichi from shock. Thoroughly flustered, Shuichi gingerly placed the jacket down on the counter. "So what's with the...uh..."

"The _what_? You walk in on us girls having a moment and gawk at us like you've never seen a female on this planet? Man, it's just like Iruma says. You're such a virgin." Kokichi ran his thumbnail over the other four nails on his left hand, shaking his head. Suddenly, a hard glint came into his eyes and he seized Tsumugi by the jaw, ignoring her squeak of surprise and prying it open. "See? Our tongues are even the same color! Did you come here to watch us make out, you gross pervert?" He stuck out his tongue to demonstrate.

It was indeed dyed the same hue as Tsumugi's. The ghost of a mental image started to burn itself onto Shuichi's brain. Kokichi's knees indenting the padding of the bar stool as he leaned forwards, Tsumugi's elbows braced for support against the countertop. Their pink tongues slid over the smooth surface of a single lollipop. The hamsters were going wild. "No!" Shuichi wasn't sure if he was particularly enthusiastic about denying this accusation or if he was trying to banish the impure thought he was having like a malignant spirit. He cleared his throat, covering his mouth with a closed fist out of habit. "Besides, you left the jar out, so it's more likely that she ate a lollipop too," he reasoned, indicating the open candy jar.

"Aw, busted." Kokichi had the nerve to look upset. "Your detective skills make this nooo fun." He took his thumb out of Tsumugi's mouth, much to her relief, and left a pink smudge on his outfit where he decided to rub it off.

"Thanks for bringing this back to me, Saihara-kun," Tsumugi said, patting the jacket. Shuichi almost thought she was going to diffuse the situation and let him leave with his tail between his legs. "What do you think of my latest masterpiece, anyway?" she asked, glowing with innocence as she pointed to her left.

Shuichi followed her finger straight into Kokichi's devilish smirk. "Er—" Wow, she'd really done a number on his eyes. Were his lashes always this long? Either way, the makeup did a fine job of transforming a familiar expression into something positively sultry. Uh. Not sultry. Uncomfortable. Yeah, it was uncomfortable to look at. Shuichi pinched the bridge of his nose. "He certainly looks—different." Definitely uncomfortable to look at. He didn't want to look at that, nope. He wanted to look aaaaat...the floorboards on the stage over there. Yeah, those.

"Wooooow." He turned involuntarily and cursed himself for making eye contact again. Kokichi was doing the thing where he got all starry-eyed and then said something really stupid. Except this time, the glittery _whatever it was_ Tsumugi had painted over his face made his eyes sparkle like an entire constellation. A what? Haha, what? No, it looked like cheap craft kit glitter and he looked like a dumb kid who'd mashed his face in it. Dumb Kokichi. "You're even worse than Shirogane-chan!"

What? Worse how? Apparently he'd said that out loud, because Kokichi was humoring him with an answer. "I know I'm hot but you're flattering me way too much with that look on your face. If you're thaaaat thirsty maybe we should call you the Saihara desert." Jazz hands. Shuichi choked on his indignation. "Here, you need this more than I do. Catch."

Fortunately, Shuichi had collected himself enough that he was able to react before being pelted in the gut with a half-finished bottle of grape Panta. "...Ouma-kun, you drank from this, didn't you?"

"So?" Again with putting his hands behind his head. As if he didn't know what Shuichi could possibly be implying.

Shuichi felt that if he spent too long talking to Kokichi, a pair of red indents would appear on either side of his nose where a pair of glasses might sit because he just kept pinching it so much. "You'd better take this back." He tried to scoot the Panta bottle across the counter.

"Aah, and to think I felt generous enough to let two people swap spit with me todmmmmmph." Shuichi felt a jolt of relief when he realized Tsumugi had reached across the counter and pinched Kokichi's lips shut. Wait, since when was she capable of that? She smiled at him thinly.

"Sorry, I think the makeover's getting to his hea—UGH—" Kokichi had wormed his tongue out of the makeshift gag and licked her finger. She advanced on him, holding her finger out threateningly, poised to wipe it on his nose. He leaned back until he let out a little _eep_ , wobbled, and fell flat on the stool behind him, giggling.

Shuichi surrendered a light chuckle at the sight of them. It almost made him forget why they were all here. That Tsumugi could not threaten to smear drool on Kokichi's face forever, that perhaps one or both of them did not have long left to live. That Shuichi himself might not survive to see them another day. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, though he knew not even stomach acid would create even the tiniest corrosion in this feeling of dread.

Tsumugi ended up with a light pink stain on her blouse. They matched. How quaint. Shuichi almost flinched at how terse his mental voice sounded. How terse, how _jealous_. He definitely flinched when another, angrier voice piped up in his head, telling him _you held hands with Akamatsu. She made you who you are. How dare you look at him like that. How dare you forget._

No, he pleaded. Yes, he was jealous; he was jealous of how carefree Tsumugi and Kokichi's interaction was. He wished he could have that back. He wished... _You wish you were Shirogane right now._ No, no. He tried to warp the scene in his head: himself pushed over, Kaede smiling above him, finger outstretched. _You want him splayed underneath you, laughing as you flick the stray strands of hair out of his eyes. You want to play his game. You want to dig through his lies and hold up the truths in the light like gemstones, to dig and dig until you corner him and steal the truth from his lips with your own, feel his eyelids fluttering shut against your cheek. You cannot have that. You do not deserve that. This is a killing game and your job is to destroy it, not stick your hand down his pants. How dare you disgrace her._

Both voices fell silent. Shuichi gazed into the hazy distance, reeling. He was too dazed to notice that both Tsumugi and Kokichi had fallen silent too, observing him owlishly.

"I'm bored," Kokichi announced. Shuichi jumped. "Look, Saihara-chan agrees. He was standing there like, _duhhhhhhh._ " Kokichi lampooned his earlier stance, complete with the dead eyes of a fish awaiting slaughter at a supermarket.

"Ah, no, sorry. I spaced out. My bad," Shuichi laughed nervously, steadying himself against an imaginary surface with one hand. His attention drifted over to Kokichi again, over the tips of his boots and up his legs, up to where purple-tipped tresses flocked a pale face with their semicircles. Stopped before his eyes. "...I should get going."

"Well, drop by sometimes, won't you? It gets lonely in here and I have plenty of convention stories to tell." Tsumugi offered him a friendly smile, wringing her hands.

"Sure," he found himself forcing out. His feet were stuck to the floor like weights.

"Yeah, yeah. Like anyone wants to listen to that kind of boring tripe. Anyway, Saihara-chan and I are gonna motor now. Bye-bye!" An arm clapped around his waist. Shuichi suffered some internal whiplash as he went from feeling too heavy to way too light when he realized it was Kokichi flinging his personal space barrier over the edge of a cliff. The very person he had been trying to escape.

He felt his body stumble through the doorway and was vaguely aware of strange traces in Kokichi's expression when the boy held him back jerkily, leaning back through the entrance to chirp, "Don't stay holed up in there for too long, Shirogane-chan! You'll fade into the wall!"

"Huh? I'll fade you into the wall with my fist!" Shuichi spared a glance and caught sight of Kokichi doubling over and Tsumugi slamming her fists together like a certain astronaut trainee before the arm around his waist swept him clean out of the lab.

Kokichi's heels clicked sharply against the hallway floors. His curls bobbed ever so slightly as he walked. Shuichi looked away. He wondered if it was easy to feel a pulse from wrapping your arm around someone's back, especially if the pulse was really loud and fast. It would be beneficial knowledge for his detective work. _What kind of detective work, lover boy?_ Work...work where you'd be destroying evidence if you touched the victim's neck or wrist. Legitimate work, and knowledge he could have right now, if he could shut off the icy voice in his head and quietly snake his own arm around—

The moment his wrist brushed against the fabric of the dress, Kokichi jerked as if shot with a tazer and recoiled. Click, click. The recoil turned into a graceful twirl. "...Trying to molest me while we're all alone, Saihara-chan?" The smile playing on Kokichi's lips was barely there; it was a grim, almost sorrowful expression and his eyes flickered in the low light like a distant galaxy.

"No, you've got the wrong idea." Shuichi didn't need a mirror to know that he was flushed with shame. Shame and regret. _See, he's more trouble than he's worth. Now pick yourself back up and think about how you're going to get us all out of here._

"Maybe I don't mind." Kokichi's voice was quiet, so quiet. The little smile was gone, a flat line in its place. The only thing left was the galaxy, hidden so far away in space yet full of such blinding light that even here on Earth it captivated its onlookers. Shuichi's waist felt cold. "Maybe you can put your hands wherever you want to, and I'd be fine with it." It felt even colder as Kokichi's beautiful face distorted and stretched itself over the ugly mug of a terrible monster, leering at him with its teeth bared. "...Well, that's a lie. You don't need to be a detective to know that."

A white bow flashed, its two tails whipping, and Kokichi was gone.

Shuichi stood paralyzed for a while, his breath rattling painfully in and out of his lungs. Then he twisted his mouth into a neutral line, uncapped the purple soda bottle that had been dangling from the fingers of his left hand this whole time, and took a swig.

 

* * *

 

Tsumugi lay bonelessly on one of the velvet couches in Motherkuma's den. She fiddled halfheartedly with a notebook, then dropped it on the coffee table next to Rantaro's bloody Monopad. Being the author of this wild story was exhausting.

But it was worth it. She was weaving a tale of truth and lies, hope and despair. The legacy of Danganronpa had been passed onto her. With her power, she could remind everyone that even in the face of inevitable hardship, hope could triumph. No matter how much distrust the murders caused, no matter how gruesome the last execution had been. Humanity would always find hope.

She thought about the thousands, millions of folk that were suffering right now, for thousands, millions of reasons. The thousands and millions that would turn to the television screen and see glimmers of hope in Shuichi Saihara's desperate determination and dedication to the truth, Kaito Momota's unshakable trust and optimism, and...

Kokichi Ouma's...

...

Tsumugi chewed her lip. Someone's motive video replayed in her head. Rule number one: no killing.

She wasn't a murderer, she was a writer. So why, when she had watched Kokichi's motive for the first time, did she have to bite back such a powerful surge of guilt? The gory deaths of the killing game were not ones committed for pleasure, but rather ones that served a thematic purpose. There must be hardship for there to be hope. Then how...

From Sophocles to Shakespeare to Spielberg and now Shirogane, all of them had the same blood on their hands. Or did they? Was it really the same when the blood Tsumugi's story produced was neon pink and smelled like iron? Was it really the same when the characters in Tsumugi's story could talk to her, could befriend her, could feel soft and smooth under her hand when she slapped them on the thigh?

Tsumugi leaned forwards, hugging her knees. An industry veteran had advised her not to get attached. All of this was done for a good cause, and there was a very thick barrier that separated a human life from a fictional character's life. Getting attached made embarrassments like season 50's mastermind and a drop in the budget. With the whole world as her judge, Tsumugi could not afford to fuck this up.

"Don't get attached to them. Don't get attached to them. Don't get attached to them," she whispered, rocking back and forth, completely unaware that:

"Don't get attached to them. Don't get attached to them. Don't get attached to them." Kokichi stared at a ghost in his bathroom mirror, its contorted face running with muddy rivulets of different cosmetics.

Still chanting her mantra, Tsumugi came to a decision. To soothe her conscience and hopefully make herself feel calm enough to assume the mastermind role fearlessly once more, she'd allow herself to show some unprofessional bias.

She decided, picking up the worn notebook and uncapping a ballpoint pen with her teeth, that she was going to give Kokichi Ouma as much free reign as she could and roll with his punches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flawless! Kokichi's surefire flirting tactic: U-USO DA YO *runs away*


End file.
